“They’re trying to find a man named Connor MacMillen. He goes by the name of Connor Mac. Anyone know him? Has anyone ever heard of him?”
Carl spoke again. “What if somebody knows him? Why the hell should we tell them, anyhow?”
Major O’Malley stepped forward. “We need to speak to Connor MacMillen about matters involving national security.” This was met with soft laughter. Captain Daubney twitched and started to raise his weapon.
“At ease, captain,” said Major O’Malley, sensing the movement.
Recognizing the element of danger, Carl put his palms outward in front of his chest. “Okay, hey I got the message, alright? Just asking is all.”
The tension in the crowd relented and Sarge spoke up again. “Listen guys, these men are willing to take our group in with theirs at some point. It’s a good move for us and I’m thinking of joining up with them. This isn’t mandatory—you can go your own way if you want to, but they’re more organized than we are and it’s likely that our lives will improve if we join up with them. Now, Major O’Malley’s question is if anyone here has ever heard of Connor Mac?”
A new recruit, standing further back near the street, spoke up. “What’s it worth to you?” he asked.
Major O’Malley studied the confidence of the slim stranger. “It’s probably worth a bottle of good whiskey and a few packs of smokes if you have something I can use. Maybe a quarter ounce of gold.” The men and women began to chatter about the reward while the man who had asked the question made his way to the bottom of the porch steps.
“You have something, Buzzy?” asked Sarge.
“Yeah, maybe. But not for no damn bottle of whiskey and stale smokes.”
Major O’Malley felt an electric jolt hit his stomach. The new man moved with a sense of confidence in his knowledge of Connor MacMillen. The major leaned in close as the man came onto the porch.
“If you can lead me to this Connor Mac, I’ll give you a whole case of whiskey and two cartons of smokes,” offered Major O’Malley.
“That sounds good. For starters,” said Buzzy. He glanced at Captain Daubney and the M-4 in his hands. “How about one of those weapons?”
“No. You can’t have one of our weapons,” answered the major. “In fact, I’ve offered you a very lucrative deal and if you don’t start talking, I’ll shoot you where you stand.” All of Major O’Malley’s friendliness evaporated and Buzzy swallowed hard, nervously focusing on the porch railing, unable to meet the major’s intense gaze.
“Well, I know him.”
“How?”
“My crew—the guys I was running with before I ran into Sarge—we tried to talk with him a couple weeks ago.”
“And?” prompted the major.
“The fucker stole my smokes. Kicked our ass is what he did.”
“Go on,” said the major, barely able to contain his excitement.
CHAPTER 2.4-Knees Weaken
They had set up camp in a partially burned-out home at the end of a short road three miles from the subdivision recently vacated. Amanda was alone, stirring a feline stew with a wooden spoon. Adding a handful of wild carrots, scallions and some fat, live grubs, she wondered if she should invite Mac in for a sit-down meal. The stew smelled wonderful, simmering in the pot that rested on the propane grill in the backyard. She’d been surprised that there was still some propane in the tank. Most people left their tank valves open and, over the years, the tanks had slowly drained dry. The smell of the stew permeated the air; the generous dash of garlic salt discovered in one of the cabinets lent a strong scent to the stew. On the verge of signaling to Mac to join her, she heard his birdcall signaling a newcomer was near. She covered her anxiety by stirring the soup more vigorously.
Amanda knew the next few minutes might be tricky and still had mixed feelings about Connor’s plan to lure Marty into making a move. She knew that it was smart to explore the possibility of taking on a potential third member—it would make much less work for all three, help keep all three safer, and allow them to increase their pace. Of course, this was true only if the new third member could be trusted.
The man named Marty was coming. Amanda’s knees weakened a bit and she felt a faint need to go to the bathroom.
CHAPTER 2.5-Sniffing the Bait
“Wow, check it out,” thought Marty.
He studied the beautiful young woman in his binoculars. After several moments, he caught himself lightly salivating, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. The woman was beautiful. Her hair was combed nicely, long and luxuriant and black as night. Her face held strength suggested by high cheekbones, full lips, and piercing blue eyes. He enjoyed her movements from house to grill. She moved with grace, almost dancing across the wild grass and lawn weeds. He noticed that she wore a snug-fitting tank top that emphasized the fullness of her breasts and the flat lines of her belly. Her jeans were worn with several frayed holes, but upon closer inspection, they were perfectly fitted to accentuate her hips and buttocks. On her hip, a long knife sheathed in leather hung from a sturdy brown belt and leg strap. He gauged her age at about twenty-five. For another half hour he watched as she prepared a meal. Unbelievably, she appeared to be alone.
Marty decided he’d introduce himself. Stashing most of what he carried, he slipped toward her. After ten minutes of careful progress, he was hidden near a small pine tree twenty feet from the grill. Under closer scrutiny, the woman lost none of her beauty. In closer proximity, she was more enthralling. Marty hesitated. He tried to clear his mind and analyze the tactical combat conditions. The interior of the house was unknown, he reminded himself. It was not conclusive that she was alone. But he admitted the risk of approaching this woman might be worth a closer look.
CHAPTER 2.6-Some Slack
Connor never lost sight of Marty, changing his position once when his line of sight was slightly blocked by an oak. He watched Marty wipe his mouth, but he couldn’t tell if it was from hunger or lust. Connor admired Marty’s cautious approach—he was clearly skilled in stealth tactics and chose excellent cover. Watching him move, Connor was quite impressed with the distance Marty covered in so short a time. Unless you knew where he was thirty seconds ago, Marty was almost invisible.
Connor moved from his cover, never losing a clear shot of Marty’s position. Amanda acted oblivious of the actions behind her, but Connor knew she was mostly aware of Marty’s position. Her trips into the house were made specifically to determine the whereabouts of her potential assailant. Standing several feet from the window allowed Amanda to peek outside without revealing her position. She had tracked Marty’s progress like this for the last half hour. Glancing further back, she caught a brief glimpse of Connor.
He took cover behind a pine approximately thirty feet from the grill and ten feet behind and to the left of Marty. When he settled into position, he aligned the crosshairs of his M4 on Marty’s left temple. He thought Marty might make a good third man, but he wouldn’t hesitate to eliminate him if he showed any aggression to Amanda.
Connor realized that maneuvering into position had not alerted Marty to his presence. But in Marty’s defense, Amanda’s attraction was enough to make any man lose his focus—Connor had acted without full caution when he had first met her. He decided to give Marty a little slack for his transgression, knowing the impact Amanda had on a man. The crosshairs of the M-4 however, never left Marty’s left temple.
CHAPTER 2.7-The Skittish Colt